We All Fall Down
by Suededonym
Summary: Mary comforts Dean after a nightmare. Pre-series, mildly AU but nothing too extreme.
1. Chapter 1

_Ring around the rosie,_

_Pocket full of posie_

_Ashes, ashes_

_We all_

_Fall_

_Down_

Mary Winchester awoke to the sound of her son's sobbing. She rolled out of bed and made her way down the hall to three-year-old Dean's bedroom. It was amazing, really, that John could sleep right through it.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Dean was sitting up in bed, scrawny arms curled tightly around his legs. Without turning on the light, Mary went to him and pulled him onto her lap.

"Ashes, mommy!"

An inexplicable chill crawled down her spine, making her sit straighter and hold her baby closer.

"It's OK, it's alright. You're safe, I got you."

She continued to make soothing noises and began to rock back and forth a little, hoping to help him fall asleep again.

"No mommy! Ashes! Ashes!"

Maybe he needed to talk about his nightmare?

"What's ashes, baby?"

Dean wound his fingers into her nightgown and tried to snuggle closer.

"Don' go mommy. Don' go."

"Shhh, shhh. I'm not going anywhere."

Dean hiccuped. Mary patted him on the back.

"Do you need me to sing you to sleep?"

Mary felt him nod against her stomach.

"_Hey Dean, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better_."

Dean's grip on her nightgown relaxed. Mary continued to rub his back.

"_Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better_."

Dean's breathing deepened and slowed.

"_Hey Dean, don't be afraid_..."

Mary stopped, leaving the verse unfinished. She gently lifted Dean off her lap and laid him back in the bed, taking care to tuck him in just right.

Crawling back under her own blankets, Dean's words echoed trough her mind.

_Ashes, mommy, ashes_.

Mary wiggled closer to John, needing some comfort for herself.


	2. Pockets Full of Posie

_NOTE_: I own nothing but a rubber band and a jar of pickle juice. Please don't sue me.

I'd like to apologize to those who have been awesome enough to read or review my stuff. I'm still figuring the website out, and it looks like it's going to be a while before I get the hang of it. Thanks so much for reading!

This story does have a plot, I swear! Spoilers through 'Home', I think.

2.

Mary was in the kitchen, making lunch.

Dean was in the kitchen, making dinosaurs out of play dough.

It was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon, golden sunlight streaming through the curtains and lighting up the kitchen with a very homey sort of glow. While Mary washed vegetables, three-and-a-half year old (and he did insist on the half part) Dean kept up a running commentary. It was mostly in dino-like roars, but Mary got the gist of it. Every minute or so she would respond with a "You don't say!" or an "Is that so?" which delighted Dean to no end. He loved explaining his dinosaurs. Pterodactyls were his favorite.

She was in the midst of slicing carrot sticks (and wasn't it still the strangest thing to be using knives so differently?) when the phone rang.

"Hello? Oh, Dr. Carson! How are you?"

Dean squashed his Triceratops into another T-Rex while his mother exchanged pleasantries with the family doctor. Mary leaned over to turn the stove on, the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear. She didn't notice the moment her son's happy chatter abruptly stopped.

"Test results? I almost forgot. Mhhhmm. On Sunday, right." Mary paused, her whole body reacting to the news. Stock still, she listened to the rest.

"What? Yes I'm still here. No, it's just a -" She transferred the phone to her other ear. "It's just a little bit of a surprise. No, John will be thrilled. Thank you. Say hi to Enid for me."

Mary Winchester placed the phone back on the hook very carefully, like it was a delicate thing and likely to break apart in her hands.

She took four deep breaths to help process the news before realizing that something was very wrong.

At some point during the phone call, Dean had climbed down out of his chair and toddled up to the stove. He was now staring at the gas appliance, eyes wide and fright written all over his cherubic face.

"Dean, don't do that!"

But Mary's son didn't hear her. He was staring at the flame on the stovetop as if it were the only thing in all of existence. He didn't twitch, he didn't blink; he just stared.

The scene stayed like that, a frozen tableau for all of one terrible moment. Then, somehow, Mary broke through whatever it was and grabbed her son away from the oven and into a very tight hug.

Sometime later, when Dean was back at the table and cheerfully making dinosaurs once again, Mary would force herself to turn the stove off. She would shake off the last cobwebs of whatever that moment had been and enjoy the comfort of the sunlit kitchen once again. John would come home and Mary would have wonderful news to share with him.

For now, she held her child as close to her as she possibly could.


	3. Jack and Jill Went Up the Hill

WARNING: the following chapter is extremely fluffy and gooey. Kind of like a half melted marshmallow.

Disclaimer- Obviously I'm not Kripke. All rights, characters, blah, blah, blah are property of someone else.

Thank you for reading!

* * *

3.

_Jack and Jill went up the hill_

_To fetch a pail of water_

_Jack fell down and broke his crown_

_And Jill came tumbling after...  
_

Mary wanted it to be a surprise. She hadn't managed to surprise John with the news of Dean's arrival as he had come as a huge surprise to both of them. Now, however, she had the upper hand.

All things considered, Mary didn't have much time at all to contemplate the best way break the news. Dean kept her busy, running underfoot and commanding nearly every moment of her attention. She thought she'd have a few moments to herself while he napped, but Dean had other plans.

Part way through washing the dishes Mary heard a very loud 'Uh oh.' from upstairs. Mary abandoned the dishes (never her favorite chore, anyway) and walked into Dean's room at precisley the moment he managed to trip and cover himself in a mass of cotton balls. Curiously, the wads of cotton stuck to Dean, making him look a little like a dazed sheep.

"Uh oh." He repeated.

It took a few minutes to get the full story. Dean was very reluctant to tell it until he had a garantee that he wasn't in trouble. Mary knew she was probably going to end up spoiling him at this rate, but she agreed and Dean spilled the beans.

Dean hadn't felt like taking a nap today, so he had set about playing quietly in his room. In the process, he had come across a collection of markers. For some reason it seemed perfectly logical to Dean to turn himself into a dinosaur. After taking care of his face, he had decided that method took too long. So he had found himself some paint and finished the job that way. When he saw himslf in the mirror, he realized that 'Mommy would be mad.' and tried to remove the paint; hence the cotton balls.

Mary helped clean him off and put his clothes in the wash, having to hold in laughter the whole time. John would just love this. It almost topped Sandwitch Day. Unfortunatly, the marker Dean had used was _not_ the washable kind. A lot of squirming and protesting later, she decided to leave it as it was.

In the end, Mary settled on just slipping the Very Important News into a conversation, casual as you please. She couldn't wait to see John's face when he heard. Smothering a Cheshire cat grin, Mary transfered Dean's clothes to the dryer and waited.

John was late getting back. The garage wasn't too far away, so Mary didn't worry. What she did do was doubt.

What if Dr. Carson was wrong? What if the test had given a false positive? She couldn't bear to watch her husband's disappointment if that were the case. They had been trying for so long now... or worse, what if she miscarried again?

_Please God, not another miscarriage._

She was derailed from this train of thought by the insistent tugging on her leg. Dean was looking up at her, best begging face in full force.

"Pleeeeease?"

"Please what, honey?"

"Pleasecanwegetapuppy? "Cause Danny down the street got one and it wasn't even his birthday or anything and the puppy is really fun and I always wanted a puppy pleeeeease?"

Mary laughed. Dean kept pleading his case, 'mouth going a mile a minute' as John put it.

"I'll think about it, 'kay?"

Having received an answer Dean went back to his toy cars, making 'vrrroooom' sounds and explosion noises as necessary.

Mary shook her head, trying to clear out the negative thoughts. Maybe this time they'd get a little girl. She smiled at the idea of decorating the spare room in pink and lace. Mary would love to have a daughter. She already had the name picked out; Samantha. A reverse of what she'd done with her mother's name in naming Dean.

Still sitting on the floor, Dean cocked his head to the side.

"Dad's home!" he cried and jumped up, toy cars forgotten at the sound of an engine pulling up in front of the house. Dean would know thesound anywhere. Dad had promised the car to Dean when he was old enough, so he took a special interest in it. He could pick out the purr of that engine in a traffic jam.

"Hey sport!" John Winchester scooped his son into his arms. "What's all over your face?"

"He tried to turn himself green today." Mary answered, leaning in to grace John with a kiss on the cheek.

Dean wiggled out of his father's arms and ran to get a picture he'd drawn for him.

"You look like a hundred watt bulb, Mary! Something I should know?"

Mary quickly rearranged her features to her best poker face.

"Dr. Carson called today."

John hung his grease-stained jacket in the hall closet.

"How is he?"

Mary fought to keep her enthusiasm under control.

"He's good. Enid tried convincing him to buy a minivan."

John chuckled.

"I'll bet that went over real well."

"About as well as you'd expect. Oh, and the test results came back."

"Test?" John looked as confused as a lost puppy. Worry creased the space between his eyebrows.

Seeing this, Mary facade dissolved.

"You might want to take that old crib out of the attic; we have a nursery to prepare."

The lost puppy dog look (which Mary found just adorable, but don't tell John that) stayed for exactly one point five seconds before he put it together.

"You're kidding! What - I mean - how are - I mean when?" He stuttered, excitement making him trip over his words.

"Dr Carson thinks sometime in May we'll be adding another Winchester to the family."

A thousand watt bulb of a smile lit up John's face. He hugged Mary and swung them around the living room, whooping for joy. Dean, not knowing what was going but still wanting in on it, danced around them.

Of course, something this good couldn't last forever.

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So I really kind of don't like this chapter, but I'm sick of trying to rewrite it and I figured I'd post something happy before it gets really emo-ish.

Please review! Anything, even an anonymous 'meh' is appreciated.


	4. Hushaby Baby

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers!

Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine.

4.

_Hush-a-by baby_

_On the tree top,_

_When the wind blows_

_The cradle will rock._

_When the bough breaks,_

_The cradle will fall... _

It was a cool, clear night. Blue moonlight brushed fingers against the scenery of neighborhood outside. All was peaceful.

Then the streetlights began to flicker.

Four houses down, a busted up radio leapt to life to blast music that no one would hear.

Three houses down, a cat hissed at the window.

Two houses down, the porch light burst.

Next door was deadly calm.

Inside the Winchester household, young Dean began to cry.

John knew his wife was exhausted. She'd been up with a sick Sam every night for the past week, walking him up and down the hallway till all hours in the morning. So when the sobbing pulled them both back from the edge of sleep, John was the one who answered his son's plaintive cries.

"I'll go." He whispered softly to Mary's stirring form.

She smiled at him in gratitude and reached out to place a hand on his stubbly cheek.

"Thank you." She mouthed, drowsiness making her unsure if she had said it aloud.

Peripherally Mary heard her husband pad down the hall to Dean's room.

"Can't sleep?" He rumbled "Me either. C'mon sweetie, up we go."

The footsteps retreated downstairs and moments later the sound of a late night television program met Mary's ears. She finally drifted off to sleep.

At least, until the baby monitor woke her.

_Down tumbles baby,_

_Cradle and all._

* * *

Another night, much later John would once again wake to Dean's cries.

"No no no no! Burning! No mommy! Ashes, ashes nonononono..."

John would pick up his oldest son and hold him close until the screaming stopped. The people in the hotel room adjacent to theirs were used to the racket by now; they no longer pounded on the walls to make the broken family be quiet.

"No no no no..."

Over and over again.

John would hug him and make soothing nonsense noises until the sobs dissolved into hiccups and John would sing.

"_Hey Dean, don't make it bad."_

Sammy slept on, oblivious to the drama.

_"Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better." _

John's voice would almost always break at this point.

_"Hey Dean, don't be afraid..._"

Dean would close his eyes and sigh, the tension draining from him.

Then he would say the words that would always break John's heart over again.

"Mommy sings it better."

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A/N: One more chapter to go!


	5. Bye Bye Baby Bunting

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Believe me, if I did I wouldn't have had the heart to kill off any of the characters.

5.

_Bye, baby Bunting,_

_Daddy's gone a-hunting,_

_Gone to get a rabbit skin_

_To wrap the baby Bunting in_

The nightmares grew less frequent, got pushed to the back of John's mind as new worries surfaced. He had never known how dangerous the world was.

He'd thought, being the war veteran he was, that'd he had seen the worst of this world. He had been wrong. Every day some new threat surfaced.

They moved frequently. He knew it was hard on the boys, but at they had each other when he was gone. They may not have had the happiest childhood, but they had each other. And they were safe, for the most part.

So when John returned 'home' and saw a monster leaning over his youngest son and his eldest with a shotgun in hand doing his best statue impression, John _may_ have overreacted.

When he had a chance to calm down and think rationally again, he realized that even if Dean had fired, nothing but pure iron could have killed the thing. And the shotgun hadn't been loaded with anything but rocksalt. He could have lost both his boys. _Shtrigas worked their way through families._

He didn't sleep that night. Sam and Dean usually shared a bed when he was away, he knew by coming 'home' far too late far too many times. Tonight (and every night after) Dean slept at the foot of his little brother's bed, like he was keeping guard. John watched them slumber peacefully on.

Until 3:18 that morning.

At 3:17, John was staring at the ticking clock. At 3:18, Dean began to scream.

A quick scan of the room convinced John that nothing was attacking his son but his own mind.

"Wake up!" John shook his shoulder roughly. He had no desire to get kicked out of the hotel.

Dean didn't wake up; he kept screaming and babbling.

"Dean, wake up! Wake up son!"

Abruptly, the screaming stopped. Dean was sitting up now, but he wasn't awake. Green eyes stared past his dad and into the void.

"We're burning, we're burning, we're BURNING!"

"Stop it Dean!"

"Mom's burning and you're burning and I'm burning and Adam's burning and, and-" Dean was gasping for air. "-and then Sam burns everything else."

Dean began to laugh, not the happy, unburdened laugh of a child, or the sarcastic scoff that was characteristic of him. This was the laugh of a broken, bitter man.

Of all the things he had seen and heard that day, the laughter scared John the most.

"Dean, stop it! Stop it this instant!"

The croaking laughter continued.

"Stop, Dean! That's an **order**!"

As suddenly as it had begun, the nightmare stopped.

"Yes, sir." Dean confirmed and his eyes rolled back in his head, sleep taking hold once again.

John didn't sleep for a few days after that. And though he would be ashamed to admit it, he couldn't look at his eldest son the same way again.

* * *

Dean didn't have nightmares after that or, at least, he never gave indication that his sleep was anything other than peaceful.

John considered it a good thing

He didn't consider that some small, essential part of his son had been buried deep under the surface of this facade.

* * *

Years later, when a woman would call him and tell him that he had a son with her, John wouldn't remember that night. But when she told him that she'd named that son Adam, John's subconscious would tell him to protect the kid, protect him in a way that John had never been able to shield his own sons.

John wouldn't remember Dean's 'nightmares' at all.

* * *

Years after that John sought guidance from a psychic named Missouri, shamefully hiding from his fully grown sons. He knew they were searching for him, but he couldn't reveal himself. Not yet.

"That boy, he has such powerful abilities." Missouri remarked. "Why he couldn't sense his own father, I have no idea."

There was a rebuke in that observation, but John didn't hear it. He dismissed the statement; John knew Sam was psychic. It didn't make sense for her to remind him.

Missouri wasn't talking about Sam.

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Well, that's the end of it. A big THANK YOU to my readers for your thoughtful and helpful reviews! You guys rock :-)

If you need a bit of light humor after all the angst, check out my profile for stories that, um, don't make sense but are funny anyway.

Once again, thank you for reading!

*bows out as the curtain falls*


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